


Of Delfeur

by gravitality



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Beauty - Freeform, Drunkenness, Gen, I love him, Implied Relationships, Moonlight, Self-Indulgent, delfeur, delpha, hes my husband, implied laurent/damen, this is all about nikandros guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitality/pseuds/gravitality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the man of the old land Delfeur, of the new land Delpha. He was the man of Ios, the Land of Kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Delfeur

Everyone knew of Nikandros; of his feats, of his land, of his friends; everyone knew of Nikandros, and everyone admired him. He was the man of the old land Delfeur, of the new land Delpha. He was the man of Ios, the Land of Kings. If one were to ask any man what they had thought of Nikandros, one might receive responsible, respectable, intimidating, strong, or anything of the like. Certainly not anyone of Veretian sensibilities.  


But if one were to come across Nikandros alone, while he was a little drunk and a little lonely, he might tell you he preferred the name Delfeur. He might tell you that, although he didn’t trust his newest king, he appreciated that he was there. He might tell you that he was alright with the Veretians, and that he regretted cutting down some of their finest swordsmen in the war only six years prior.  


Nikandros was a simple man; he respected a man who could fight. He always believed that Veretians were not respectable. He had been proved wrong in his journey with his Kings, not even three months ago. He respected his golden haired King, not because he was athletic in the Akielon way, no, but because he was athletic in the Veretian way. He knew how to trick and slide, confuse and trap, and Nikandros had to admit those were lacking characteristics in his best-friend-turned-king. And, as a border lord, he knew Laurent’s slyness helped in the combining of their countries, his slickness and trickery forcing the Veretian nobles to obey.  


As of current time, he was alone in his courtyard, the moon high overhead, a goblet of griva in hand. He sat on a bench, relaxed and slumped, as he looked around his plaza. It was small, nothing in comparison to the many at the palace, but that was to be expected. It was nothing in comparison to the one at his other home, his home in Ios, but, again, that was to be expected. His eyes raked every detail, shining in the dim moonlight. He compared it to his courtyard in Ios. He decided he liked this one more. Relaxing again, he took another swig, his goblet nearly drained. The light here was different. It was dimmer, rarer, this close to the border. It seemed scared to show itself, playing a dancing game, appearing some places, illuminating the golden marble objects underneath, and nonexistent in others, the dull darkness blackening the alluring views.  


It seemed to know this was a place of dispute.  


Nikandros laughed at the thought, taking one last, unhurried drink, before lazily setting his goblet on the bench beside him. His mind brought him back to the last time his friend had visited. They had sat on this same bench, talking with each other, giving hushed laughs in response. His friend’s lover was upstairs, supposedly asleep, and they had the entire night to themselves. He let out an amused breath and leaned back on his hands, vaguely missing those times. Damianos was king now. Just as they had always imagined.  


The clouds had moved, and the moonlight was shining on him, on his bench. Nikandros was, again, reminded of Damianos. This had happened to them on that night, too. The moon outlined Damianos’ features. It shone on his hair, in his eyes, on his cheeks - Nikandros had noticed this. It was hard not to. He saw his old friend in a platonic light, but he was well aware of how attractive he was. He let out a single, low laugh when he remembered that Damianos thought him attractive, too. He wondered what Damianos saw in the moonlight, looking at him. They looked similar, in some ways. They were both classically Akielon, with dark, curling hair, olive skin, and straight noses. He knew he differed, though. In the lighter color of his hair and the lack of dimples when he smiled and the chestnut brown of his eyes and the many freckles thrown about him. However, excluding their differences, he supposed he shone just as Damianos did, his strict features softened by the quiet glow of the moon.  


He found this all very amusing. Maybe he was a bit too drunk, he thought. He decided he should return to his rooms, and silently stood, making his way through the dark corridors, the only light coming in from the windows, showing his lands of Delfeur.

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE NIKANDROS SO MUCH MY HUSBAND NEEDS LOVE


End file.
